This story is half truth, half lie but not half stupid.

I'm not bloody Shakespeare

I remember the first time I was called ignorant. Predictably it was by a girl. I cannot remember why I deserved this remark but I do remember denying it.

Later that day I consulted my pocket dictionary and looked up the definition of ignorant. I realised that I had been falsely accused of being ignorant, but had in fact at the time, been ignorant of the word ignorant.

As soon as I got the chance to set the record straight with this girl, several days later, she just laughed and accused me of being paranoid. I was mad about being called this mad word and retreated to the safety of my bedroom to once again consult with my trusty dictionary.

This 'Collins Gem' of a book proved to me that once again (and yes I've said 'once again' once again, I'm not bloody Shakespeare) I was falsely accused. I could not get it out of my head that she should think that I was this 'paranoid' word. I spoke to my mother about this and showed her my dictionary and made her aware of the 'ignorant' slur as well. I even asked my five year old sister if she thought I was being paranoid, but judging by her noncommittal response she probably thought I was. It seemed that everybody was thinking I was paranoid. Paranoid, paranoid I was bloody-anoid.

I seethed for a couple of days, while everyone at school, mainly the girls, laughed behind my back. Then finally frustration gave way to retribution (although I did not know it at the time), and I decided to have it out with the girl. She claimed, when challenged, that she had plain forgot what she may or may not have said to me, conceding flippantly that "Oh, I was just being flippant."

Her conciliatory remark stopped me in my tracks and I rushed off to somewhere private where I could get out my little dic.

Flippant. She was being flipping flippant. This was serious. How dare she flippant me as if I was an ignorant paranoider.

I had a plan, which turned out to be a ruse. I would publicly shame or humiliate her in a war of the world of words, I mean a world war of words, or a war of words in the world, or, oh you know what I mean. Anyway, the idea was to not only demonstrate my wordliness, but to get her to concede that she was the ignorant one, the paranoid one, the flippanty one. To admit she was wrong, apologise and acknowledge my superiority.

The day arrived and I took along with me a couple of mates, which by strange coincidence also happened to be all my mates. Together they would be independent witnesses of my unignorant greatness. I approached her and a handful of her mates (about ten). I pulled out my homework diary. I flipped a few pages. I spake magnificently the following words : -

"So Katherine, if I'm so bloody ignorant and a paranoid, then how come I not only know the meaning of, but can actually spell antidisestablishmentarianism, A-N-T-I-D-I-S-E-S-T-A-B-L-I-S-H-M-E-N-T-A-R-I-A-N-I-S-M."

I stopped and gave a victorious smirk. She smirked back and in the ensuing silence it slowly dawned on me that since I had read the whole spelling bit from my diary, perhaps I had not looked quite so clever.

Katherine's friends, now numbering around sixteen, had seemed to notice my faux pas. Mass tittering began. Katherine herself, however, was magnanimous in her response. Her eyes shone brightly as she said "My humble fellow litterateur, permit me to be magnanimous " (I permitted) " in victory. Forgive me your cantankerousness, your folly, your farcical aplomb, your un-sage ways, your toothless words and your vagaries of the English language."

I stopped her in her tracks this time, accepted her apology, forgave her and trudged off with a headache. Before I had got five yards, Katherine called after me "Do you want to come to the disco with me on Friday?"

I knew the answer and the word in my emphatic response "YES".

The End

or as Katherine would say La denouement